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joaofelix70 · 5 months

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MISS DIPLOMAT & MR. CHARMING |

dominik szoboszlai x female reader.

author's note: this handsome man's living rent-free in my head. he's a freaking masterpiece. talented, funny, charismatic, attractive. i watched interviews, tiktok videos made by supporters and much more to understand a little bit of his language, personality and what he does towards friends and loved ones. laughed a lot! i made my homework as a writer, hope you enjoy it! (compliments and any kind of retributions are more than welcomed).

summary: your job is involving the commitment of unify the population and create interrelations to another countries, using the eurocup qualifiers and the hungary national team executions. you just didn't expect to fall in love with the no. 10's captain player.

words and characters: 1,811/11,223. it was three days working too hard on this story. i'm begging for your consideration, lol.

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sports diplomacy: it's the unique power of sport to bring people, nations, and communities closer together via a shared love of physical pursuits. this responsibility is the reason of a transition between strangers to connected individuals, advancing foreign policy goals and augmenting sport for development initiatives. the complex landscape where sport, politics, and diplomacy overlap become clearer, as do the pitfalls of using sport as a tool for overcoming and mediating separation between people, nonstate actors, and states. the power of sport has never been more important. so far, the 21st century has been dominated by disintegration, introspection, and the retreat of the nation-state from the globalization agenda. in such an environment, scholars, students, and practitioners of international relations are beginning to rethink how sport might be used to tackle climate change, gender inequality, and the united nations sustainable development goals, for example. to boost these integrative, positive efforts is to focus on the means as well as the ends, that is, the diplomacy, plural networks, and processes involved in the role sport can play in tackling the monumental traditional and human security challenges of our time. credits: international studies association and oxford university press.

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MLSZ (hungarian football federation) ──

new training ground at telki.

"i can't believe that being in places like this made up my most theoretically utopian childhood dreams. what a progress in front of me!" you still witness exciting moments where you pinch yourself, trying to believe in the reality that surrounds you: visiting the new training center of the players who are just a few meters away from you, getting ready to represent an entire country.

"your presence is our privilege. a voice of the spread of eurocup to our nation, right here…" the technical director gives you deference, obtaining a measure of humbleness and respect by you.

"the honor belongs to me in its entirety. grateful for having me, sir. while the view is immersive and captivating — my fervent congratulations to everyone involved — could we retreat from the pleasant glass-enclosed room and see everything closer, on the outside? please? i will never get used to this atmosphere." you pour politeness and charisma to the staffs around you, being directed to the proximity of the field and saluting the employees who pass through your path.

meet dominik — your szobo — instigates the nostalgic combination of detailed moments in which your thoughts display as photographic retrospectives. you're incapable to oppose the little enthusiastic laughs, fidgeting the rings between your fingers and avoiding possible suspicious glances from others. however, for you, this wouldn't actually work. the lives of you both are correlated, but different.

the training session is finished. clapping your hands and celebrating the performances, you greet the athletes and recognize some familiar people. nevertheless, reality slows down after those dark woody eyes capture through your soul. his arms tattoos are glorified by the sun's rays, the same illuminated smile is offered to you: that one you got during the very first time you saw him — instantly knowing he made you testimony the accuracy of freedom, catharsis and emotional amorous complement. that he'd be the one to introduce you what you never experienced, what you thought you'd never receive or deserve. what love truly is. when you were novices in your actual professions, not even imagining the future gifts of your unreal purposes.

"there you are!" intimately, dominik points at you, being reciprocated by vibrant nods and your old sort of secret — not that mysterious or serious — handshake. "még mindig emlékszel rá? (still remembering it?). you're a real one!"

"hogy tudnám elfelejteni? alábecsülsz engem. (how could i forget it? you're underestimating me)". your defensive actions demonstrate purposeful falseness. masking any sensitive, verbal or figurative communicative fragment from him is a difficulty that makes you give in over time. honestly, you never complain about this. it's like he wants to understand the factors and layers of you.

"a te kézfogás fickó. ne merészelj lecserélni engem. (your handshake man… don't you dare to replace me)". a shameless wink is send to you, butterflies acquiring space in your stomach.

"és hivatalosan is a szavamat adom rá. (and you officially have my word on it)." your gloss is pigmented against your fingers while you raise it up, displaying an oath, wondering if szoboszlai comprehends that his replacement in your life would be blasphemous.

"diplomata kisasszony, (miss diplomat)…" the hungarian fingerprints are shared and you recognize the sign to hold them, ready to perform your typical fashion icon moment. "gorgeous as always. go ahead! you know what to do!".

amusement surrounds you with the nickname's citation. although, you could feel some curious glances, from the outsiders, about the intimacy between you and him. "i appreciate, our top-class national bless…" you move your body in rotations to exclaim the outfit's characteristics, lifting your feet to show off the specificities of your heels. "how is your hair so well-groomed after sweating, though?" your arms cross and you raise an eyebrow in questioning, trying to hide your fascination.

"thank you, my number-one fan, but don't change the subject. finish our inside joke, c'mon!" dominik grabs his water bottle and spreads the cooling liquid on his forehead, wiping the glowing droplets across his face as he lifted his jersey high enough to exhibits his fortified abs.

your attention is directed to any surrounding scenery, throat being piked. szoboszlai pretends he doesn't notice, preventing to embarrass you.

"alright, alright! you've won, bájos úr… (mr. charming)". your final comment escapes as, practically, a whisper. you can't control the shy laughter, coupled with the considerable redness invading your cheeks.

"that's the secret to make my day!" using his tongue to reproduce a sharp noise, he matches your humorous reactions. "would you like me to show you the infrastructure changes? i'm just gonna take a shower!"

"i've already been granted a tour around here, but in case you insist…" during the dialogue, some athletes cross your space, wishing them good luck for the competition. your concentration on the activity is significant, at the point that dominik's silent admiration goes unnoticed.

"i mean, you know me! i'm gonna insist anyway, so…" he reaches your captivity, bringing you jollification.

"i'll rate you as a personal tour guide. now, go there!" jesting each other, you both exchange exaggerated reverences, like a challenge of who makes the most chaotic one.

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walking around the area, various subjects are explored, informations entrusted. you ask and are updated about his ethereal younger sister.

portraits of the generations are framed. you magnifies his presence in celebratory pictures, dedicated to find him in the memories and achievements on that wall. pride shines from you and the hungarian finds it lovely.

"you know i'm a sucker for accents… they're much more than mere verbal characteristics, they're stories: life experiences, marks and scars. identities and cultural integrations." the topic is random. through generalized opinions, you're explaining conceptions and dominik is retaining mental observations. he exalts every scrap of your identity, like a faithful worshiper.

"basically, you're admitting being enchanted by my accent. i can see the stars in your eyes. a win is a win!" szoboszlai and his frequent attribute to physical touch, tickling your ears and playing with them. it doesn't bother you, actually: adoring the affection exuded by you and him. you feel like a little girl dealing with your one and only love.

"it's beautiful, how can you blame me? and hey, i know mine's making you grin too." he holds your arm, shivers running down your spine, the two of you being euphoric in the midst of your own enthusiasm.

"putting me against the wall? okay, hum… what were you saying before?" he's changing the subject and you have a natural wit to boo him. lifting his shoulders as a surrender, the hungarian focuses on the specific loose strands of his simple bracelet, which you get used to help him tie it again, willingly.

"trying to avoid the truth? fine! let me take care of you while i talk about my admiration towards globalization and communication. like, with every fiber of me…" you accept the conversation's direction and utter a 'voilà' towards the accessory's new appearance.

"that's why you're the best person i've ever seen doing this job." dominik compliments you, an act full of honesty.

"thanks a lot, mate. but which job? as your bracelet helper or my real one?" you provide tenderness, looking amused.

"i mean… both of them." szoboszlai chuckles, revealing courtesy by your continuous helpfulness.

"literally? because i know you know a lot of people. you're so young and already is the national team's captain." you nudge him in a form of tease. he's a starboy, it's undeniable.

"flattered! literally, thought. you were born for this, believe me." vulnerability collides to you, as his words are deliberated: emotions embracing you and warming your insides.

"dominik szoboszlai, my dear friend, you're gonna make me cry, right here. i'm sorry, i need to do it…"

innocent satisfaction builds strength over you and executes unthought-of approach to the tangibility of your gratitude — his colony enrapturing your sensitive olfaction — in the most out-of-control way. the sounds reach your hearing: a choir of angels singing hallelujah. he reciprocates the contact, laughing at your juvenile excitement. joining him and doing the same thing, harmonizing the triumph. in the separation of the touch, you both remain close to each other and the hungarian doesn't miss the opportunity to feel the softness of your side face, caressing the skin. appreciation and satisfaction invade your structure, delighting on the palm of his hand.

"just a dear friend? why are we pretending all this time?" dominik's reading you. the intimidation at the sight of him overhanging you is paralyzing. you don't usually back down, but in that instant — superior than your most repressed desires — your gasps are escaped.

"who is putting who against the wall now?" insisting and failing on your witty answers, shyness and uncertainty corrodes you.

"please, look at me! i'm not kidding anymore." his voice is questioning, intrigued — contradictorily vulnerable and calm — your rationality being fragmented, fragile.

"you know i'm not the kind of woman you're surrounding by, domi. i'm not an influencer, bikini model. i'm not a public figure. i don't live for the cameras and gossip platforms. i live to work hard. i didn't achieve any of this with some type of perk. my routine and your routine are based on traveling..." who could deny it? szoboszlai's always been all that you see. it's much more than a mere passion. your attraction to him is magnetic, intense, vivid. consequently, terrifying.

"i'm just asking for a chance, (your nickname). i don't lie when i say i've never met someone like you. i may be surrounded by a crowd and you'll still be the one to steal my attention, because nobody compares to you."

your eyelids are closed and the exhalation of his sigh penetrates your lungs with the numbing breath of life you've never experienced before. it's happening: the rare situation where thinking carefully about the pros and cons is unworthy, dumbness. your decision is made and the privilege's resolution unify your lips. the beginning demonstrates slowness and patience — the intensification through the concluded wait of the longed-for reality, transforming light and magical kisses into open mouths discovering each other and witnessing the endearment that both offer — hairs, necks, shoulders and waists captured.

"you're the first to create a meaningful presence in my mind and heart. i want you to be the last one too. i love you, kincs (my treasure). i'm finally brave enough to demonstrate it with no fears." dominik's forearm covers your upper torso. your back against his chest, noses resting on each others. rejoicing at the miraculous, incomparable circumstance.

"i love you, drágám (my precious). you're finally mine and it was so fucking worth waiting." his whisper: the living proof of celestial existence.

"how blessed we are…" intertwined bodies, coalesced essences. solitary melodies turning into the sweetest and most complete symphony.

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